


For Kicks, For Love, For Leather

by A_bello



Series: Kinktober 2020 [8]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Bondage, Bottom Will Graham, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Dom/sub, Forced Orgasms, Human Footstool, Kinktober, M/M, Masochism, Multiple Orgasms, Service Kink, Slight Aftercare, Spanking, Sub Will Graham, Top Hannibal Lecter, Vibrator, belt play, buttplug, gagging, kinktober day 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26973010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_bello/pseuds/A_bello
Summary: His blood froze in place, the sound of its silence rising in his ears, above the low classical music and the crinkle of Hannibal’s leather armchair behind him.“Tell me, Will, are directions often difficult for you to follow?”__A BDSM scene in Hannibal’s office, clearly after hours. Will needs to be put to use, so Hannibal does just that.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Kinktober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948135
Comments: 11
Kudos: 168
Collections: NSFW Hannigram, hannigram





	For Kicks, For Love, For Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Not me posting this 3+ days AFTER the 8th..sigh. Oh well, I’m still following the prompt list. Enjoy the porn

Will couldn’t count how many hours had passed while he lay on the ground, presenting for the man who sat comfortably behind him. His body was trembling slightly all over, upper chest and knees sore with the pressure on them having lasted as long as it did. 

His hands were limp, arms flat on the floor, wrists cuffed neatly between his thighs. The rough leather was chained to a T-bar that had two larger cuffs on either end, which neatly encircled the space just above his ankles.

Will’s fingers occasionally twitched where they lay, cold and numb with lack of use and circulation. 

His cock hung heavy, hard and pink and leaking precum, just the same as it had been for who knows how long.

His mind was somewhere between sated and restless with the difference of power in his current situation. 

While Hannibal was the one in control, the one owning Will in the moment, every little movement Will made steered the interaction between them in a different direction than the last; he was the cause, and Hannibal’s control was the effect.

The concept sent a shudder through him, but he made sure to quickly suppress it, knowing all too well what would happen if he moved. 

His shivers hadn’t gone unnoticed, though. Hannibal’s foot shifted where it perched, pressing against the rubber edge of the buttplug that had nestled itself deep inside Will’s ass. It wrapped under his perineum and around his balls, encircling them and the base of his cock; a cockring connected to the buttplug. 

The toy was a smooth black material, and thanks to Hannibal's relentless conditioning, sometimes the mere sight of it was enough to startle Will into a state of unsure submissiveness.

The edges of the shoe's heel dug into the skin around his soft, puffy rim, rough and ever so slowly warming up. 

He wanted to buck his hips, thrust against the ground, feel his legs spread even more painfully wide while he got fucked. But instead he was being used as a footstool, Hannibal lounging with a foot up while he read through a rather long novel.

Not that Will didn’t enjoy this.

This was actually rather pleasant for him.

His knees ached deep enough inside that the pain steered him, just the same as the sensations on his ass. 

His hands had lost feeling but his shoulders ached and his nipples felt slightly chafed. His cheek was sore where his head lay sideways, the rug beneath him leaving red imprints across his face.

Just the concept of Will moving, shifting his hips, finally trying to lift his hands and seek relief was enough to make goosebumps spread across his skin with pure  _ need  _ and anxiety.

He imagined Hannibal sighing, pressing his heel down harder, rolling the butt plug as best as he could at the angle. 

He imagined the vibrations starting out low, rolling through his body like a lightning strike.

The image in his mind felt too real for comfort.

Will whined and his foot twitched, knee sliding half an inch. 

His blood froze in place, the sound of its silence rising in his ears, above the low classical music and the crinkle of Hannibal’s leather armchair behind him.

Those square edges pressed into the tender, puckered skin as he pushed on the base of the butt plug. He  _ tsk _ ed disapprovingly behind him.

“Tell me, Will, are directions often difficult for you to follow?”

He whimpered, goosebumps breaking out across his chilled, sweaty skin. 

Before he could answer, Hannibal continued, rolling his ankle and drawing a gasp from Will.

“Disobedience won’t be tolerated, Will, I’ll have to punish you.”

Despite the fear pooling in his throat, his cock twitched in interest where it hung free. The foot lifted from his backside and there was a moment where Will’s panic skyrocketed, unexpectedly unprepared for separation. 

He was quickly grounded by the sharp soles of Hannibal’s shoes digging into the meat of his calves.

He seemed to pause a moment and the hair on Will’s nape prickled with anticipation, until he heard the sharp clacks of metal. The buckle on Hannibal’s belt came undone smoothly and quietly slid from the loops around his waist. 

He gathered it in his hand, reaching one hand out to knead at the plush skin pulled taught in presentation. 

“You’ll count every lash, naughty thing.”

He explained, still groping his ass. When Will didn’t answer, his fingers pinched in awfully tight, and he leaned forward to bite one cheek. 

His feet dug into his legs harder when he did so, and the new combination of pain and pressure drew a low whine from Will.

“What do you say when I tell you something, Will?”

“Yes, Sir."

He hummed, running his thumb harshly over the fading bite mark.

“Good boy.”

His hands, belt still clasped in one, repositioned his hips, easing Will farther back towards him, Hannibal leaned back a short moment to admire the view of the man before him, cock twitching between his legs, rim red and clenching around the plug inside him, thighs trembling. 

With a stern expression, he ruffled through his pocket, still watching the boy closely to be sure he didn’t move.

He pulled his hand from the folds of fabric, holding a small remote. Without warning, he clicked the first button, a low, soft vibrating sound starting. Will’s cock jerked with the rest of his body in surprise, crying out from the shock of it.

“Hannibal-”

He reached out with his bare hand and smacked the side of Will’s thigh, effectively reminding him of his position.

“Sir, what is-”

He repeated the motion and Will quieted himself, whimpering, hands clenching and unclenching desperately, palms up between his legs.

Hannibal readied himself with his belt, posture straightening slightly.

“Begin.”

His arm lashed out, the thick leather coming down on Will’s soft skin with a harsh  _ slap _ against his upper thigh, the skin just below his ass already turning red as it jiggled with the force of it.

He whimpered and Hannibal hummed over the sound, watching the way his hips openly shifted, trying not to thrust into the empty air the way his instincts suggestive.

“One lash, Sir.”

Will’s skin thrummed with the pain of every lash, counting slowly in tune with every harsh whip, against his thighs and his plump ass. 

His words had already taken a desperate rasp, cock almost as red as his abused skin. Another lash and Will’s tears were almost too much to bear. 

“Ten lashes, Sir.”

His voice wobbled and when the next lash did not come, his relief was not long-lasting. 

The vibrations that rumbled deep inside him strengthened, pressing too harsh against his prostate before being pulled back halfway. 

The shift pulled on his balls and cock slightly and Will gasped, his hips shifting with the movement, before the vibrating plug was forced back all the way inside his hole.

“Oh, please, Sir-”

Hannibal clicked his tongue and Will bit his tongue, taking every new punch to his insides with little more than needy whines and moans, feeling the way they gained numbness from the overwhelming sensation. 

The lack of feeling couldn’t come fast enough, though. 

His gut throbbed with heat and the setting kicked up again, Will’s rim surely bright red and puffed beyond ever before.

Hannibal continued his cruel ministrations for what felt like hours, those long, dexterous fingers just barely brushing his hole with every push and pull on the rubber toy.

Eventually his grip faded, though, and Will was left once more with the abusive toy inside him.

“Again.”

Hannibal called out to him, a warning, barely giving Will time to regather his half-coherent thoughts before Hannibal struck him with his belt again.

“Eleven lashes-oh!”

With another unexpected bite against the tender skin on his bruising ass and a harsh grip around the base of his cock, Will’s orgasm rolled through him like sweet rain, dancing across his skin and mind in the most cruel ways. 

When he finally felt completely spent, thick ropes of cum coating his biceps and the carpet between them, Hannibal released him and kissed over the bitemark.

“Did I say you could cum, darling?”

Will whimpered weakly, mouth hanging open in his daze, cheeks and lips wet and plump with his own abuse.

“No, Sir.”

Hannibal’s free hand had settled against his thigh, and his fingers now squeezed the skin there roughly. 

“And what do we do to bad boys? I don’t expect much from you, Will, and if you wont meet those expectations then you can at least follow my rules.”

Will cried out, those thick tears that had been hanging onto the edge for far too long finally spilling over. His shoulders shook momentarily as the next few breaths racked through his throat, his chest, and he whined. 

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

Hannibal shook his head, despite Will being unable to see it. His hand didn’t soften it’s grip, but it did slide up slightly. 

“Sorry isn’t good enough. You ruined my carpet, you dirty boy.”

Will’s next whine was rougher and his hips twitched back, lower half genuinely numbing to cope with the constant fiery pressure inside him, brushing against every nerve with vigor. 

“I know, I’m sorry, Sir.”

Hannibal hummed, hand sliding up to once more knead at his ass, now red and violet, a perfect mosaic of Hannibal’s own design. 

“I’ll have to continue your punishment, Will. Count your lashes like a good boy and I’ll consider treating you like one.”

Will nodded, body sliding with the movement, knees weak where they held him up. 

Hannibal leaned away again, his warmth receding enough to make Will shiver with anxiety and need, before the burning hot strike across his backside nearly sent him sprawling flat on the floor. 

It might have had he not been restricted the way he was.

Another desperate sob forced its way through Will and he cried out his next count.

“Twelve lashes, Sir,”

He took a stuttering breath, taking every second of his beating with nothing short of appreciation, words tumbling from his lips in between his counts.

“Please, Sir, it’s too much-”

_ Smack _ .

“Fifteen,” Will took a moment to let his body rattle with the heaving cries and gasps before continuing, “lashes, Sir.”

He’d been slowly hardening again, but by the eighteenth he was almost completely filled out, cock jumping with every little movement, every smack. 

This continued until he cried out the twentieth lash, and then, Hannibal stopped once more, leaning forwards to mouth across the colored skin on his backside, breath hot and heavy where it brushed against Will.

Suddenly, the vibrations amped up once more inside him, just enough to be felt through Will’s haze.

He’d been steadily drifting, eyes half open, drool pooling beneath his cheek and across his chin, body shaking inside and out. He felt so overwhelmed, so everywhere and  _ only right here _ all at once, it was amazing. 

His mind was finally emptied of all background noise, focusing on just being  _ good _ for Hannibal, for taking his lashes and counting them and nothing else. 

The rough carpet and his aching dick and knees and burning backside were all present but had faded so harshly that he was only half aware of the pain and the pleasure now. 

He groaned, back arching further to try and seek something more from the toy inside him. 

Hannibal’s warm palm pressed flat against the end of it, pushing it impossibly deeper inside him. The raven-haired man groaned, all but throwing himself back against the firm touch. Hannibal pulled his mouth away, once again admiring the escalating scene before him.

Will was shaking like a dog on its last leg, ready to melt into the floor with how jumbled his senses had become. 

Hannibal himself felt the heady rush of blood, the rabbit heart rate, the tremor in his bones, but it was not for all the reasons Will was experiencing those things.

He was also losing his mind, thanks to the sight in front of him. Will bruised and aching, listening to his directions and being so beautiful for him. 

As he reached out to grasp hold of Will’s cock once more he knew the boy would finish again, but the action would do nothing more than give Hannibal another reason to push his torture further, draw out this intoxicating experience.

He wanted to push him to the point of blacking out, sobbing and dry heaving with overstimulation and shaking so violently it could have been concerning. He wanted to pull him back from that edge, cradle him in his arms, bathe him and dress him and swaddle him. But here, before the fireplace in his office, he could not do those things.

Later, maybe, he could push will to the brink. But not now. At the least, though, he could bring him close to it.

His fingers curled around his cock and the plug in time, almost to the highest setting, and he pumped both his arms in time. 

Every little thrust into Hannibal’s hand was met with the force of the violently vibrating toy inside Will, who was crying so hard that his shoulders-flushed and broad and  _ lovely _ -spasmed out of tune with everything but the frantic crackle of the orange embers off to the side.

His fresh leather shoes dug sharper into his skin.

Hannibal fucked him rough with the rubber plug but folded his fingers so nicely across his shaft, it seemed impossible to Will that those hands belonged to the same person. It didn’t matter much to him anymore, though, mind barely even aware of his location anymore, focused on little more than the security he felt and the desire pooling in his lower stomach. 

“Hannibal!”

With a wanton moan, his ass clenched when he pushed forward as far as he could go and he came again, hot ropes of cum splashing down across the drying pool of it already below him. Will sniffled, hips stuttering, still fucking into Hannibal’s hand and back again onto the device used for something more than pleasure, now, and something closer to torture.

“Please, Sir,”

He begged weakly, legs and arms trembling beneath him, shoulders red with flush and agitation from the fabric, face surely permanently scarred from the coarse rug. 

Hannibal hummed, slowly pulling his fingers back, wiping Will’s own cum onto the bruised and tender skin on the back of his thigh. 

“Yes, William?”

Will could have cum again at the playful tone, but all that happened was another sob rocking through his body. Hannibal leaned forward to drag his hands slowly down his sides, kissing over his ass and lower back.

“You’ve been so, so good for me, dear. So beautiful.”

Will shuddered from the praise, pushing up into the warm at his back, ignoring the searing pain of the pressure on his calves. 

“Please.”

Hannibal clicked his tongue, those devilish hands sliding under him to slide over his stomach, palm firm, one of them parting to slide up and pick at his nipples. 

His fingers were gentle with the way they brushed and flicked over the perky nub, right up until his loving brushes turned into a death grip, fingernails digging into the soft flesh.

Will cried out, unsure whether the wetness against the side of his face was more tears or more drool at this point.

“Hannibal, please! Please I’ll be good, fuck, please,”

He cut off into a moan-or sob, depending on how you looked at it-as Hannibal’s hand shifted to roughly pinch his nipple, the other palm still flat against his lower stomach.

“Try again, sweet Will.”

Will’s chest stuttered and he let out a halfhearted whine.

“Sir,  _ please _ , Sir, it’s too much.”

Hannibal hummed, leaning back suddenly, feet sliding onto the floor on either side of Will’s legs, framing his body. 

“Not yet, sweet boy. You’re so good, listening to me, pliable wanton, and I think it’s my turn to find release.”

Will gasped, hips twitching back, the bud of muscle inside him so abused that he couldn’t imagine not having steady vibrations and pressure against him. But the heat of Hannibal, so much larger than this toy-it seemed impossibly perfect. 

He nodded desperately, body shifting in tune with the way his head bobbed.

The sharp metallic sound of Hannibal’s zipper coming undone behind him and the gentle ruffle of his fine suit, all before the man was pulling the plug from inside him and sliding the rubber rings off his cock. Will's heart seemed to stop at the sudden emptiness, hole fluttering around the lack of an intrusion, seeking to be filled once more.

Hannibal leaned in and kissed his red, raw rim,and Will let another sharp cry slide from between his lips, tears a hot stream down his face. 

It seemed impossible to stop at this point. 

He was just barely aware of the clicking of a lube bottle behind him, some of the cold jelly being smeared across his hole and surely along the length of Hannibal’s cock. He wiggled his hips in anticipation, body lax and heavy. 

Rough, warm hands settled on his hips, the head of Hannibal’s cock already inside him.

He didn’t remember him pushing in but now that he was quickly sinking inside him, Will moaned, legs stretching impossibly further apart to welcome him inside him, into his warmth. He wanted Hannibal to plow him so deep he could feel him in his throat, wanted to be full and sated and  _ used _ .

He supposed he already was, but it was a dull realization that did little to calm the sudden roaring need inside him.

“Sir, please,”

Hannibal grunted, fully seated now, working in and out of him with shallow thrusts, the fine fabric of his suit brushing against the irritated skin on Will’s lower half.

“Please what, my boy?”

Will squirmed and Hannibal leaned over him, pressing his clothed front against his back, letting the warmth settle between them as they both panted, trying to adjust and seek out more than what either had to offer.

“Please, more, fill me up, Sir,”

He pleaded, moans and words falling from his lips like colored flowers, red and yellow and refreshingly crisp.

Will’s eyes had closed, tears sticky on his cheeks and eyelashes and nose, drool slicking half his face.

Hannibal’s heart clenched as he slowly grinded against Will, and he sighed, pulling back before slamming in, hearing his boy cry out as his body was forced forwards slightly. He’d been so good for him, after all, how could he deny him?

His thrusts were hard, quick, each one measured. He’d pull out almost entirely before rocking his weight against Will, forcing himself almost deeper inside, feeling his puffy and raw hole clench sweetly around his throbbing cock.

Will was crying again, hiccups and pleads half coherent and practically unintelligible. 

One of Hannibal’s hands braced itself against his shoulder while the other slid around him, pulling his chest completely flush with his back. 

He felt as though he found himself deeper inside with every rough hump, pressing his weight onto Will while he fucked into him. It was somewhere between grounding and even more overwhelming. 

Hannibal’s heat surrounded him, pushed inside him, pulsing and dominant and everything he could ever need. 

Will could stay this way forever, crying himself to the point of lightheadedness, throat and lower half raw. It was almost comforting, the overstimulating pain of it all, but more than anything it was just too much.

And Will still wanted more.

Crying, pleading,  _ needing _ , and all Hannibal could do was give him more and more until his thrusts grew shallow once more and he moaned in warning.

“Will,”

The boy met his cries with even louder ones, urging his desires to resurface as reality.

“Yes, please, Sir fuck me harder, fill me up,”

He babbled, feeling the way Hannibal’s grip tightened around him, their skin slapping together faster than before. Will came, weakly spurting cum into the same place as the first two times, eyes rolling back into his head, body completely pliable and limp in Hannibal’s arms.

His left hand, which still had the belt looped around his finger, brought his and up to fit the leather into Will’s mouth.

Gasping and panting, he welcomed the firm material between his teeth, biting into it while spit already welled up in the corners of his mouth. 

Hannibal slid his hand down his front, one arm still around his middle, the other now planted on his waist. He fucked him rough, sobs and gasps filtering around the makeshift gag in Will’s mouth. 

Their bodies rocked on the floor and he leaned back, shifting his footing for better leverage, pushing inside him at a refreshing angle.

He moaned, head falling back momentarily as his thrusts grew sporadic, Will writhing and screaming out below him. 

It was only when he tried to inch away from Hannibal that the man leaned forwards against, reapplying the pressure of his body covering Will’s.

Hannibal nosed along his shoulder, licking and kissing before coming to his nape as he rolled their hips together.

Hannibal stilled inside him, balls deep and still pulsing with the need to take,  _ claim _ more, to force every inch and atom of Will’s being into submission beneath his steady hand and mind. 

He sunk his teeth into the muscle beneath his lips and Will barely reacted, sobbing, saliva coating his lips and chin once again, the fresh film of tears and spit burning hot against his flushed face.

With small, random twitches of his hips, Hannibal spilled inside him, thick ropes of cum searing his insides, warm and welcome. 

Hannibal stayed planted inside him for a few more moments, rocking his front against Will’s ass as he rode his orgasm. Eventually he was sliding out of him, panting, and collapsing back in his chair. 

A few drops of his cum rolled down Will’s thighs in shiny trails, pearlescent and boiling where they touched his beaten skin, igniting a flame he hadn’t been prepared to deal with.

Every inch of his body hurt, and Hannibal watched him come into his discomfort, still with one foot on cloud nine. 

Hannibal leaned forwards, softly brushing one hand across his back, shushing him as his cries grew from one cause to another, from stimulation and overwhelming sensation into pain and panic. 

“I’ve got you, Will,”

It didn’t do much to comfort him as Will still whimpered, pushing against his warm touch, seeking any place of steadiness.

He let out a muffled plea, turning his head the other direction with a sudden cry at the sharp pang that shot through his neck. 

Hannibal sighed, leaning over him to wrap an arm around his waist, another around his chest. He grunted and leaned backwards, lifting the deadweight of a man into his lap as they both fell back into his large armchair. 

He’d had it brought in when the evenings with Will began to grow longer and they’d both discovered that sometimes the most effective form of therapy was just to read together. 

The both of them in this chair, Will perched heavily in his lap, breathing him in while Hannibal’s mind quietly analyzed words printed out in foreign languages.

Some nights he read aloud, despite Will’s lack of experience with latin or russian or french or whatever the subject was for that night.

He almost wanted to read to his boy now, but as they leaned deeper into the fine leather, he simply held his shaking body closer and removed the folded belt from his mouth so Will could lick his lips and work his jaw back into a comfortable position. 

Hannibal sighed, leaning in to kiss his temple and along his hairline, grip tightening around him when Will let out a tired sob and leaned into the embrace.

Next time, maybe, he could read to him.

**


End file.
